lawmummy

So, LawDaddy calls to get the damn serial number for GoLive.

Remember, I’m at the home office with the actual product.  LawDaddy is not.

And what does Adobe tell LawDaddy?  That I should have called since I’m installing the product (insert swearing under breath here).  And if I’m not mistaken, it was a woman who said this.  It’s confusing because we’ve spoken to about five Adobe folks at this point.

So 27 minutes on the phone later, and some yelling from Chris, we have re-installed GoLive.

Jeez, it better be worth it.

It’s Lawdaddy’s birthday.  It’s been a rough week (yeah, it’s only Monday - your point?) and things have not been so great at home.

In the midst of all of the craziness, his gift from me was… a bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Cup miniatures.  Unwrapped.  And a Bert balloon on a stick, which Katie broke.

And Katie switched the candles in the store so his “4x” birthday cake (double icing, courtesy of Katie) became “5x”.

So iffen you’re so inclined to wish him a happy birthday, it would make me very happy.

So, I convinced husband to parlay his sporadic beer blog into a regular blog for a network. Check him out, show him some love… Well, not that kind of love. He is my husband!

I have a couple of Innocent Spouse claims on my desk right now. IS claims are filed when there are tax obligations on joint tax returns and one spouse claims that, for whatever reason, he or she should not be liable for the total tax due. In the majority of cases, these claims boil down to which spouse can tell a better version of their story - the he said, she said dilemma. They can be kind of tricky to prove because, let’s face it, most people don’t spend a lot of time documenting the ins and outs of their relationships.

Over the course of a number of months now, I’ve been requesting information to prove allegations and asking the same kinds of questions over and over. One of my clients mentioned to me that she had never really asked her spouse hard questions about any of the finances because in their marriage, there was a division of labor that they more or less followed. In the division, her husband managed the finances including filing the tax returns and she never had real cause to question it - or the guts to ask him to prove anything to her because she both trusted and feared him.

So, this has been on my mind a lot these days. It’s easy to be smug when these cases walk through the door, and wonder how a marriage could crumble to the point that there was no communication, but it has dawned on me that this is how most marriages that I know work: household chores and obligations are divided. And in this busy life that we lead, we rarely stop to ask questions. In my house, for example, while I manage the finances at the office (remember, Chris and I manage a law firm together), Chris takes care of money at the house. I take for granted that the bills will be paid, that the proper paperwork is filed, that he has not secretly transferred ownership of the house. That takes a lot of trust. Or is it willful avoidance? You see, IRS would argue the latter. And on paper, it kind of sounds that way. I’ve thought about the argument that I would make if something catastrophic happened with respect to our finances - and it’s a bad one. How can I, educated woman that I am, argue that I just didn’t know? And there I go sounding smug again.

I know, at the end of the day, that a good relationship is built on trust. We trust each other to do the right things - to not cheat, to not lie, to not lead us down the wrong road. But where is our personal responsibility in these matters? I don’t purport to know. I know where IRS thinks it is. And yet, I can tell you, that no matter how many of these cases wander through my door, I doubt very much it will force me to change the way that I live my life. That’s the craziness of it all.

Ok, at the risk of completely ruining any image of me lawmummy’s readers might have had, I’m adding my first (and perhaps only) post right now.

As those of you who commented correctly surmised, lawmummy is in fact a superb if occasionally overextended mother, and both of her kids are well aware of that. Kate’s just testing the waters - with both of us - and finding them a little more hospitable on lawmummy’s end of the pool. Not much, but a little.

Maybe not so sappy after all, that’s pretty much as good as it gets. On a separate note: strangely, lawdaddy was taken, sorry for the e-mail notice of your password, whoever you are.

So, we finalized our insurance policies today. We decided that some increased insurance was in order, what with the increased number of kids and all…

Our physicals were last month and went really well. They took blood and urine, plus measured our blood pressure along with our resting and active heart rates.

The good news? I received a Preferred Elite rating, the highest that you can get, which means, in simple terms, I got a decent amount of insurance for little money. The annoying news? Chris received a mere Preferred rating. After teasing him about this for awhile, I decided to ask our agent why the big difference. And get this - it’s because Chris smoked a cigar last year. Yes, you read that correctly. A cigar. Last year.

We are not smokers. I used to be a social smoker, which means I had an occasional cigarette when out for a drink or two. I was (thankfully) never addicted and I gave it up altogether when the girls came along. It is a nasty habit and I didn’t want the girls to ever see me doing it.

Chris has never smoked a cigarette, I don’t think. He has, however, been known to enjoy an occasional cigar. And by occasional, I mean maybe four a year in our pre-kid years. And one last year.

I was the one who encouraged the full disclosure. As an estates lawyer, I have witnessed many an insurance company who managed to wiggle out of payment based on a discrepancy characterized later as a willful lie. As I told Chris, there is probably a picture of him smoking a cigar floating around somewhere (perhaps taken by my crazy neighbor in a fit of her trying to prove that we’re giving her cancer - more on her some other day) and that’s the last thing we need, to lose a claim based on some goofy interpretation of the question “Do you smoke tobacco products?” So, we told the nurse who gave us our physicals about our respective histories. And I came back as “no problem” but Chris is on par, practically, with a smoker - which cost us some money. All because of one lousy cigar.

There’s a Clinton joke in there somewhere but I’m just too tired to think of it… Insert your own political humour here.

So, we get points for honesty. But we lose some dollars. As Chris is fond of saying, it’s getting more and more difficult to tell our children that honesty is the best policy. In today’s society, lying seems to get you everywhere - including the White House - whereas honesty costs you.

Sigh.

But it’s still the right thing to do… isn’t it?

No, sorry for any of you MTV fans who may have stumbled over on a search for information about the latest Real World/Road Rules challenge… This is so not about that. I don’t even watch the RW/RR challenges anymore – either it’s getting old or I am. I’d like to think it’s the show.

At any rate, this is simply my own personal challenge. Chris has, occasionally, wandered over to check out the blog, usually goaded into doing so by his friend, Max (ahem), and then later explains how I missed a point or two. Oh really? (Imagine a skunk eye here, if I were actually capable of doing a skunk eye.)

So, here is my challenge, which I am sure will fall on deaf ears. I will add Chris as a member to my blog… He can post or reply to his heart’s content. Then, you, the reader, can make up your mind who you believe. I think we know the answer.

Chris now officially has the dream job of most men: he is being paid to look at porn. Yep, you read that correctly.

Back in the day, his job seemed a little boring: contract review after contract review (of course, he thinks tax law is no great shakes – boy, is he wrong!) after contract review. He is currently representing a few tech companies and as part of his responsibilities, he has to review certain sites and items to see if they are appropriate. He’s a regular Antonin Scalia.

His latest responsibilities have involved reviewing naked greeting cards and web cam sites. I should be so lucky that it’s male porn. Nope. Well, not most of it.

At any rate, who knew that, other than Scalia, it would be the job of an attorney to look at nude photos – and get paid to do it? He’s been checking them out on the computer today. Such is work … or so he says.

And I wonder: How did I get so crazy? And then I hear from my family and it all seems so clear.

Chris got a nice note from my Mom today for Christmas. Again, clearly she meant well, but I couldn’t help but be a little offended (you know, like when she says, “You’d be such a pretty girl if you fixed yourself up a bit”) by such lovely comments as (and I swear I am not making this up) “We thank God every day for bringing you to Kelly” since he apparently stands by me even when I am “wound up” - whatever that means. I think it’s Southern for opinionated. ‘kay. Anyhow, if you read my blog, you know I am just mad about my husband. Despite our annual holiday argument as posted on yesterday, I absolutely adore him - though apparently not as much as my parents…

And Chris, in case you’re reading, and lest you get ego, I’ll remind you that once, not so very long ago, my mother “did not not like you.”

My last blog post of the night, I swear.

Just before posting, my husband and I had our annual “holiday party season” argument.

The thing is this: I am a social person, Chris is not particularly social. And yet, around the holidays, he develops a compulsion to accept every single holiday invitation that we receive. It drives me insane.

The current argument involves the twenty holiday events crammed into a few hours. Okay, a slight exaggeration. But close.

We have a holiday party scheduled for tomorrow night. Chris wants to go to a holiday lunch on Thursday. Our firm holiday lunch was Monday. We made our regular pilgrimage to Bethlehem, PA, for the Christkindlmart on Sunday. So far, we also have scheduled events for 29, 30 and 31 December – as well as 1 January and 7 January. And, oh yeah, did I mention that we are going to the inlaws’ house on 24 December and then hosting the whole family on 25 December? I’m getting tired just thinking about it.

This annual fight inevitably leads to a whole discussion about how I don’t want to do the same things that Chris does – we also get into the whole family debate, which we’re also having regarding whether I will allow Chris to take Katie to Amman, Jordan in spring.

Ooh, quick political note, make sure you erase your cache! God forbid that the FBI/CIA get ahold of your computer history and see that you read something that mentioned a Muslim area of the world. I think that the President will subsequently authorize that you be wiretapped. (Sorry, couldn’t help it.)

At any rate, the weird thing about the family debate is that it’s just not true. I have the best in-laws in the world. Really. My father-in-law taught me to love martinis. My mother-in-law drives a red Mini Cooper (my dream car). They’re just so great, and they’re so nice to me (always have been). I enjoy spending time with them. I know that I’m lucky in this regard – I have friends that literally can’t be in the same room with their in-laws, so I am really, really thankful.

And I don’t mind spending the 24th with them. And the 25th. And the 1st of January. And the 7th of January. All at various events, one at their house, one at mine, and the other two elsewhere.

But, every now and again, I just want to spend a little bit of time with my own family.

I don’t think that’s so wrong.

The girls are so over-stimulated this time of year. And it’s one social event after the next.

Last year, when we were in Munich, Germany over the holidays, it was actually nice to have practically no social obligations (just meeting up with a few friends and spending Christmas with close friends). It was – dare I say – relaxing.

I don’t get this American obsession with over-holidaying the holidays. I just want to go to a couple of parties and then play with my girls.

That’s all I want for Christmas (well, that and a Mini-Cooper).